


Stand and Face God (Reach Out and Touch Faith)

by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)



Series: Once More With Chris [3]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Disturbed Narrator, Disturbing Themes, M/M, Religious Symbolism, Temporary Character Death, Violent Sex, abusive sex, autoerotic hypoxia, declining mental stability, extreme dissassociation, unnegotiated choking kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives
Summary: The three times Jack Krauser took Leon Kennedy to make the man his own and the gradual descent into madness that drives Krauser to become a monster.(please heed the warning)





	Stand and Face God (Reach Out and Touch Faith)

**Author's Note:**

> **THIS IS NOT A NICE FIC**
> 
>  
> 
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> 
> parts 1 and 2 are relatively okay though part1 covers something you already have read if you read Sometimes I've Been Violent from earlier in this story but part 3 covers a lot of gruesome stuff so please please _please_ be careful it's not tagged as dub con or noncon because it's really not either of those by the serious tags like the truly violent sex is what that is so use caution
> 
> that being said, i had to write this for plot reasons of the other part of the fic

1.

Leon Kennedy was pretty fucking tight for a slut.

The noises he was making— fucked out little grunts and whines, strangled sounds of pain and pleasure that had Krauser grinning wide, showing his teeth, filling Krauser with pride— were a cacophony of satisfaction for someone like Krauser. Leon’s body trembling under Krauser’s hands, succumbing to him, filling Krauser with power from how easy this man was to destroy. The bruises blooming around his neck, the blood splattering his lips, the eyes rolling into the back of his head. Art in motion, art burning beneath his hands, the Library of Alexandria reduced to ash: all of this reflected to Krauser in those agonized blue eyes that were begging him to stop and never stop in unison. Krauser wrapped his fingers around Leon’s cock, squeezed tight enough to hurt, and leered at the tears that brimmed in the kid’s eyes. 

“You like it,” he snarled as he fucked Leon so hard that the table clattered dangerously with each thrust. Leon’s thighs trembled around his waist and the sound of Krauser’s flesh slapping the meat of Leon’s ass sent a thrill through him, the hunter dominating prey in the most primal of ways.

“You like being used, don’t you? Everyone fucking uses you, this country, your C.O., me. You’re made to be used and you love it.” He slammed in harder and relished the whimper he dragged from Leon’s pretty mouth, the blood bubbling from where Leon had split his own lip. “Tell me you love it,” Krauser ordered, needing to hear it, needing to know Leon knew his place and knew that this was what he wanted.. When Leon failed to answer, Krauser took Leon’s neck— that perfect neck, so pale and long, begging to be broken— and shouted: “Tell me!”

“Yes,” the pretty little thing choked out, clinging to Krauser’s arm like he was being dangled off a precipice. His nails dug into Krauser’s flesh, stinging so perfectly, making Krauser want to bring his arm back and slap Leon across the face, make him _really_ scream. “I love it, I love it, _please._ ”

Tears rolled down those pale cheeks that were without color regardless of how hard Krauser was fucking the kid into the table, the air loss making him white at the edges. He gasped wetly and his grip was already starting to weaken. “I love it,” he sobbed again, and Krauser believed him, snapped his hips forward even harder, felt Leon’s body seize around him. Something was going to break, whether it be Leon or Leon’s body, he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to see it more than anything he’d ever wanted before. 

“Use me,” Leon suddenly whimpered, lacing white hot _need_ through Krauser’s veins. “Just— _fucking use me!_ ”

Jack Krauser’s father had been a— formidable man. Tall, terrifying, tough. A boxer and a devout Catholic, dragging his son into the pews and bullying him into the confessional booth. Krauser had spent a lot of his childhood listening to a priest drone about love of god and the cruelty of the devil and how no one was innocent, no one except the angels. The angels had been marble statues that towered over Krauser’s and the other churchgoers’ heads, small men and boys with their cocks on display and wings framing their lithe figures, flawless and untouchable. Krauser had never really believed these angels existed, not even in a biblical sense, because he’d never seen one that wasn’t made of stone. Until now, that was. Because now, Krauser had one of those angels beneath his hand, begging to have his perfect marble limbs smashed to pieces.

Krauser tightened his grip, relishing the ragged noise Leon made as air was kept from his lungs, those manicured nails scrabbling at Krauser’s skin, desperately trying to make him let go, but Krauser was stronger. No weak little pencil pusher could pull his grip away, and Leon looked gorgeous when he was dying. Krauser grunted and sped up his thrusts, that tight heat swallowing him inside despite the way Leon’s grip fought him. He relished the light dying from Leon’s eyes as his own orgasm grew from the pit of his belly, so fucking turned on by the way Leon’s fight weakened and bled away. He knew there were only seconds left, that Leon would really be a corpse by the end of this if he didn’t let go soon, but the trembling of Leon’s body as the heart slowed was so fucking good and Krauser was this fucking close—

Leon suddenly came hard, shocking Krauser, stunning him with how fucking _disgusting_ this man was for him to get off on _death._ The kid’s body arched off the table as those blue eyes slipped into the back of his head. Streaks of cum shot up his chest, staining the cotton shirt with proof of how sick in the head Leon Kennedy really was. And Krauser was so fucking _entranced_ by the pure _disease_ that was this kid’s head that he almost forgot he was killing him.

Krauser let go of Leon’s throat and the kid sucked in air like he— well, he had been dying, so Krauser couldn’t judge him for that. And as Leon gasped and whimpered and shook, Krauser slammed into that gorgeous, afflicted body and filled that hot chasm with his cum, groaning in satisfaction as Leon’s chest heaved and rattled. 

Leon didn’t say a word.

“Jesus,” Krauser huffed, recovering quickly, used to quick fucks like these that were more convenience and kicking off the stress than actual sex. “Did I break you, kid?”

“I’m fine,” Leon rasped. Krauser really had done a number on his throat. Those bruises, blue and purple and green, blossoming across that pale neck were so perfectly divine that he couldn’t really bring himself to care. If Leon Kennedy really was as good as people said, he’d be able to perform impeccably on this op despite a few aches and pains. 

Krauser pulled out— grinned almost sadistically at the way he seed dripped from the kid’s wrecked hole— and then crossed the room for the weapon cleaning kit he knew was tucked away for anyone that wanted a last minute, neurotic sweep of their arms. There wasn’t any clean cloth, but the water bottles stacked beside would probably do the kid good. Krauser turned back and saw Leon hadn’t sat up yet, the man just laying on his back, gripping his throat, looking fucking pathetic but still oh-so enticing. His thighs were still trembling.

“Here,” Krauser barked, going back to the table to yank Leon up by his shoulder, watching him closely for any twitches or sharp gasps that could say Krauser had pushed it a little too far. “Drink that,” he ordered, shoving the water bottle into Leon’s chest once he was satisfied he hadn’t actually broken or twisted or sprained anything in the man. Leon followed his orders well and as he down the water bottle, Krauser grabbed the waist of Leon’s pants after going down on his knees in front of the table, hiking them back up those long, beautiful legs, thinking of the time crunch they had. 

“Excuse me,” Leon suddenly interrupted his voice still ruined and audibly thrown. Krauser brought the BDUs all the way up, over those thighs that had red handprints from where Krauser had gripped him tight, and started to do the zipper. “Are you— what the fuck?”

Krauser snorted a laugh at his stupidity. “What, you think I want my partner to be a useless mess? I need you watching my back. I know I was a little rough, but nothing you can’t handle, right? You just come so highly recommended.” He knew his sarcasm wouldn’t be lost. “I don’t wanna end up dead in the water just because you bit off more than you could chew. Finish off that drink and get yourself cleaned off or whatever.” Krauser did the snap of Leon’s pants and moved away. “You better guzzle painkillers and be ready for the op— I’m not picking up your slack just because you decided you need a good fuck.”

Krauser turned to leave, ready to get his go-bag and do some preliminary stretching before meeting his contact to get into South American on his own, but was stopped by Leon calling out his name. He looked back and—

Leon was holding Krauser’s H&K 23.

Well, shit.

“What kind of soldier forgets his gun?” Leon asked, all of that snark returning like Krauser hadn’t just literally fucked him within an inch of his life.

The kid had fight— Krauser would give him that.

He turned back and stalked towards the table, reaching out and taking the gun from Leon with a small smirk, genuinely impressed by the tenacious fire that existed in those blue eyes despite how they’d faded with death only moments before. He let his fingers brush the skin of Leon’s wrist, watched those blue eyes flash with alarm for a moment, before turning away from Leon and leaving with a halfhearted, two finger salute from over his shoulder. 

As Krauser strode away from the arms room, ready to head into combat, one of the only places where he felt alive and useful, he couldn’t keep that smirk from morphing into a grin. He was excited to see if Leon Kennedy was only just a good fuck, or if he’d continue to surprise Krauser in ways he would never expect from a kid looking like him.

2.

His arm was in shreds, twisted flesh and weak, so fucking weak, Krauser knew that there was nothing surgery could do for him despite the doctors being all sunshine and silver linings. The hospital bed he was laid up in had been uncomfortable and creaky and a pain in his fucking ass until Leon had shown up, and—

Well—

Krauser grunted and planted his feet to lift his hips, keeping the kid upright as the smaller man bounced on Krauser’s cock, throwing his head back and babbling uselessly to the ceiling, Krauser’s good hand around Leon’s neck because Leon had put it there, but Krauser— couldn’t bring himself to hold too tightly, feeling the bob and rattle in Leon’s throat as he moaned and gasped in pleasure, riding Krauser like he never wanted to stop. Krauser wasn’t sure how he’d thought fucking Leon till it hurt had been the best sex Leon could offer. Having Leon atop him, consenting and eager and willing, using his body to bring Krauser pleasure like it was the only thing he could ever want? Having Leon like this was almost _religious._

The kid cried out loudly and Krauser shifted his hand to shove his thumb between those swollen lips and press down on that tongue, watching Leon’s flashes and his cock bob with interest. The kid probably liked having something in his mouth, and Krauser grinned breathlessly at the prospect of seeing his thick cock stretching those lips wide. “Quiet,” he growled, smirking at the way Leon sucked on his tongue like a fucking natural. “You wanna bring the nurses in here? Let them see you like this? Fucking yourself on my cock like a cheap whore?”

Leon whimpered around his thumb and his insides trembled around Krauser’s cock, tightening deliciously as Krauser hitched his hips upwards and slammed into the man, watching Leon’s eyes slip into the back of his head as he was jolted into the air by the power. “You fucking love this,” Krauser accused as he pushed his thumb further into Leon’s throat, watching his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed around the digit. “You want them to know how much of a slut you are, don’t you? You want the whole world to know.”

For a moment, a light in the hotel room flickered and darkness enveloped them, reminding Krauser of the late night and the fact that Leon had snuck in beyond visitor hours just to be with him. The harsh glare of the lamppost outside of Krauser’s hospital bedroom lit Leon’s body up like he was on display in a gallery, Leon’s shirt bunched up beneath his armpits, miles of skin on display, pale and unblemished, like marble, like an angel. 

A fallen angel, one that had collapsed from the ceiling of the chapel, crumbling apart as it hit the stone floor and begged for Krauser to fill him.

Leon moaned raggedly and squirmed atop Krauser’s cock, hands planted on Krauser’s stomach for leverage as his body rose and fell, over and over, taking Krauser like he was made for it, writhing and begging with those blue eyes, he was getting close, Krauser could feel it, just another—

Leo’s throat fluttered around Krauser’s thumb, sounds smothered as he gagged on him, cumming up his chest with tiny little jerks of his hips, grinding helplessly down on Krauser’s cock through the aftershocks. Krauser grinned electric and hooked his thumb in Leon’s mouth, yanking the kid down to kiss him for the first time and chase the air from his lungs. Leon fucking _mewled_ into his mouth, like a touch starved kitten being given affection after a lifetime on the streets. Some distant part of Krauser found the sound pathetic— the other part sang to life, a thrill shooting through his veins to know that someone as powerful and commanding as Leon Kennedy would submit so readily to Krauser’s might. The Archangel Michael pleading for Lucifer to pluck his wings.

Then Krauser threaded his fingers through Leon’s ridiculously soft hair, spreading his legs and planting his feet to slam into the oversensitive kid five more times before he claimed that delicious body as his own. Leon gasped wetly into his mouth at the sensation of being filled and those blue eyes open again to stare into Krauser like he could read his mind.

Krauser used his grip in Leon’s hair to yank the kid away. “Jesus christ, give a guy room to breathe,” he grumbled as Leon sat back unsteadily and wiped the back of his mouth on his wrist, his hands shaking. Krauser knocked his hips up, wanting the kid off his lap. The sex was over, his body was satiated, and now he’d been slammed back into reality. His dismal future, the pain in his arm, the possibilities that he’d once dreamed of becoming unattainable. How this fucking kid, stupid and with all his limbs functioning, _chosen by the President_. This kid was smiling shakily as he eased himself off Krauser’s cock and stepped back onto the floor, legs weak. Krauser watched him sharply, checking for injuries out of habit, also to remind himself that—

His injury wasn’t Leon’s fault. And his injury wasn’t set in stone yet. The doctors could be right and they could fix him, or maybe there were other options. Krauser wasn’t discharged yet and he— maybe he could learn from Leon Kennedy, who seemed to have never heard the phrase “give up” in his life. Krauser watched Leon limp back into his pants, watched the kid run a hand through his hair and try to save face, and distantly felt sorry for how he’d pushed the kid away so harshly. And honestly—

God damn, Leon was a good lay.

“You’re good at that,” he told Leon gruffly, unaccustomed to shelving out compliments but feeling like he needed to so he could make up for being an asshole. And then, true to form, Krauser ruined his compliment by asking, “Guy like you probably has an army of exes I need to worry about.”

Krauser watched the smile he’d brought to Leon’s face die away in an instant. Of fucking course a pretty boy like Leon Kennedy would have more baggage than a teenager girl shipping off for a month abroad. Leon’s expression— and god, did he have a lot of them— shifted like a stack of cards being fanned, before Leon seemed to settle on that faux confidence that had gotten Krauser riled up enough to fuck the kid into a table in the first place.

“Does it matter?” Leon asked, turning to Krauser after using the corner of the hospital bedsheet to wipe the cum from his chest before pulling his shirt back down his lean body. The smirk playing at his lips was infuriating as Leon leaned in like he wanted to kiss Krauser. “He’s gone. Who cares?”

Krauser stopped Leon from advancing any further with his good hand over Leon’s mouth, shutting him up and pushing him away. “I care,” he insisted. “Know thy enemy, kid.”

He felt Leon’s smirk drop and those blue eyes glared defiantly at him, shining with more of that fight that intoxicated Krauser. Krauser grinned, bright and feral, and brought the hand from Leon’s mouth back to his hair, yanking his head, exposing that pale neck that still had the dark marks of Krauser’s grip from the day before. “I’m asking for intel, soldier,” he growled. “You gonna keep me in the dark?”

For some reason, that question seemed to be what broke Leon. The kid scowled but opened his mouth and said, “Chris Redfield.”

Krauser waited a beat, and then raised a brow. “Just the one?”

Leon nodded, jaw set.

“Huh. Must’ve been a hell of an ex.”

“He’s an asshole,” Leon whispered, the raw emotion in his voice surprising Krauser. 

“Why’s that?”

Leon shrugged, acting childish. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Now that— was a little shocking in its own way. “I’d ask if he broke your heart,” Krauser began. “But I never thought guys like you and me had hearts to begin with.”

Leon’s smirk returned, but it was a lot less this time. “He and I survived hell together,” Leon told Krauser, finally opening up a little now that he saw Krauser wouldn’t judge him, not for something like this. “And he promised me he would always be there for me. Then a bad thing happened and— I was left behind.”

Krauser scowled, hating those words more than anything. “No man left behind,” he said, the mantra familiar to any soldier in any branch in any world. “We don’t abandon our own.”

“That’s what I always thought,” Leon agreed. “Which led me to only one conclusion— I was never one of his own to begin with.”

“Huh.” Krauser didn’t know what to say to that, except, “He made a helluva mistake.” When Leon’s eyes snapped to him, aching and vulnerable in a way Krauser hadn’t thought Leon’s eyes could be, he realized he was only scratching the surface of how deeply this Chris Redfield had wounded Leon Kennedy. “You proved yourself to be worth your spit back there with Javier. You stuck by me as a loyal partner. You kept the civilian safe and we took down Javier when the fucker was probably a mile tall. And this Chris Redfield threw all that away?” Krauser shook his head. “Must’ve been a Marine for how stupid he is.”

Leon stared for a long moment. Then, “Air Force.”

Krauser chortled. “Odd— normally you have to have an iota of intelligence to be _Chair_ Force.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Leon said again. “He’s gone. He’s not— part of my life anymore.”

There was something else, something that wasn’t leaving Leon’s expression even though he should be fine after getting that shit off his chest. Krauser almost didn’t understand it, and once he finally did, he almost laughed. “You wanna know why he thinks you’re not good enough, don’t you?”

Leon looked away. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Hardly,” Krauser denied. “If someone was stupid enough to throw me away despite my usefulness, I’d say it’s their loss and find something better. Someone or something that is more deserving of my talents. And then, once I’m being used to my full capacity, I shove myself right into that first fucker’s face and let them see what they lost.”

Leon’s breath caught audibly and Krauser wondered if he’d said something that really hit the kid hard. “Maybe you’re right,” Leon told him. “Maybe— maybe I’m better off.” He didn’t sound like he believed it, but Krauser could appreciate the kid giving it a good college try.

Then Leon was turning to him, smiling bright like the sun. “I’ll come check on you tomorrow after your surgery. From there, we’ll figure the rest out.” Leon gave him a two-fingered salute as he headed for the door. “Rest well, soldier. I’ll be back soon.”

Then Leon was gone, leaving Krauser dumbstruck, wondering when he and Leon had suddenly become a “we.” Apparently Krauser didn’t have a say in the matter either, the kid being rather stubborn when he wanted to be. Still— it was almost nice to have someone so dead set on being at his side. Like a partner that extended beyond combat. A friend that could stand beside him in work and more, a brother in arms, or even something more. After all, with sex like that, Krauser couldn’t see himself spending a dime on porn ever again.

“Jesus Christ,” Krauser mumbled to himself, shaking his head and convincing himself that he’d get good news from the doctor and he’d be boots to the ground with Leon next to him before he knew it. “Whoever that Redfield was— he was probably the stupidest person in the world to leave behind a kid like that.”

3.

Leon was digging crescent moons into Krauser’s skin as his eyes begged for air, but Krauser refused to let go as the hate for Leon Kennedy crashed over him and washed away his sanity. He hadn’t let Leon up for air in what probably felt like hours for the poor sonuva bitch, his eyes wide and glassy and his face bright red, almost purple, lips moving like a fish out of water, the rest of his limbs limp as he died, jostled helplessly up the bed by Krauser’s thrusts as he continued to fuck into that tight heat, heedless of what was happening to the body he was using.

And wasn’t it a hell of a body— Leon Kennedy was fucking dying in Krauser’s hand and he’d never felt more powerful. An angel falling from heaven into hell and finding out that demons didn’t play fair, paying the price for trusting the wrong people. Leon had tears tracking down his face, but even those were lessening, his body weak and giving up, shutting down as he was asphyxiated. 

Krauser had always wondered how it would feel to die like that. The thing he found people took for granted the most was oxygen, and yet it was the easiest way to kill a person. A pillow over their face, a bag around their head, wire around the neck— gone. Just keep this one simple element that was in surplus surrounding from the victim and it was over in minutes, or could be dragged out for hours, even days of pleasure of watching a body kick and squirm from a noose that’s just a little too long. 

But Krauser preferred getting his hands dirty. On his knees in the mud, bent over a figure that kicked and fought and slowed as it died, watching the light fade from their eyes, an animal struggling to the end and yet struggling for nothing but false hope. Krauser loved it like this, up close and personal, watching the life leave. He was grinning as his hips kept snapping, getting closer and closer to the edge as the claws of the dying animal beneath him fell away and the body finally stopped kicking, stopped writhing, stopped trying to escape. The animal submitted completely and fatally to Krauser and he came hard, hips jerking into the tight chasm that accepted his seed like it knew it was nothing more than a garbage dump. He groaned in satisfaction and pulled out, bringing his hand away from the pale neck of—

Leon.

Awareness snapped into Krauser like a bullet, the reality of what he’d done hitting hard and fast. Across the sheets, in the hotel room Leon had been staying in while Krauser had awaited his sentencing within the Army, was Leon himself, strewn out like a sacrificial lamb, limbs splayed wide, arms outstretched, legs still open from when he’d willingly accepted Krauser into his body, angelic face serene and empty as he stared up into the ceiling with glass eyes like a doll—

The kid wasn’t fucking breathing.

Krauser was on the bed, on his knees, palms overlapping and pressed to Leon’s sternum within seconds even as his bad arm screamed with pain, going through the motions of CPR on autopilot. Krauser knew how to save a man just as instinctually as he knew how to kill one. Chest compressions, over and over, head tilted back with a clear airway, rescue breaths blown into Leon’s wet mouth, a mouth that had overflowed with words of concern and comfort and a mouth that had pressed the most adoring of kisses to Krauser’s scarred skin, a mouth that had promised everything would be okay, that Krauser was more than just a soldier, that he had a use beyond war—

A mouth Krauser had left gasping for air, robbing Leon of his life.

Krauser kept up the compressions, kept up the breaths, kept trying to bring Leon back as the hour before rushed back into his awareness, coming to Leon’s hotel, desolate and ruined, discharged from the military with some paltry retirement fund and injury pay, the VA already asking for his details, and Leon had accepted him with a warmth that Krauser hadn’t felt from anyone except a priest telling he was absolved of his sins. The touch of Leon’s fingers to his skin had been so gentle, so good, so unlike the terrible things Krauser had seen and grown accustomed to, and Leon had promised him they’d figure it out, that Krauser wasn’t useless, _he wasn’t going to be left behind._

Leon had gone on and on with possibilities, plans, alternatives, people he could talk to a favors he could call in. The president, his director, a shit ton of people Krauser didn’t know because Krauser wasn’t the president’s bitch and he wasn’t fucking important like Leon fucking Kennedy and he wasn’t even a soldier anymore, he was useless, he was scum beneath the boot, he was a waste of space, he hated what had been taken from him, hated who had taken it, hated the government and the country and _Leon—_

Leon suddenly swallowed a lungful of air and lurched off the bed like his soul had been slammed back into his body. The kid turned onto his side and gasped and choked and cried, those tears falling again as he curled his knees into his body. Leon gripped the sheets in trembling hands and cried so hard that he started to hyperventilate, his breathing all out of sync now that he could actually breathe again. And Krauser just sat back on his haunches, watching in a daze, watching this angel stagger back into the world.

For a long while, the only sound was Leon coming back to life. Then the kid was sitting up, pushing himself onto his knees with arms that quivered, muscles starved of oxygen and paying the price. Leon had spit smeared across his mouth, his own and Krauser’s, glinting in the hotel room light as it trailed from his lips and soaked into the disgusting hotel sheets. Leon’s brain was still too addled from the near-death experience to even be aware that his body wasn’t working right, the limbs weren’t answering commands, Krauser could tell by the way his palms were opening and closing on the bed beneath, a systematic check of functions, like going through the steps of a manual. Then Leon lifted his head, and Krauser could see the shrunk pupils and the color splotching his skin, uneven and telltale of what he’d survived.

Leon heaved a few more breaths and said, “I’m okay.”

Krauser blinked slowly, the words such a blatant lie that they almost seemed foreign to him.

“I’m okay,” Leon said again, barely able to keep himself upright. “Keep… keep going.” Leon started to crawl, moving across the bed towards Krauser, shaking from head to toe, barely even alive at this point, and saying, “I can take it.”

Krauser launched himself from the bed, his mind overtaken with images of angels falling from a citadel ceiling, smashing into the ground and crushing churchgoers with their heads bent in prayer beneath, an apocalypse of heaven’s making, cruel and sick and satirical. He stepped into his BDUs, pulled on his clothes, tied up his laces, left the hotel room in such a flurry of panic that he didn’t even hear Leon call out to him, only heard the final echo of the last syllable of his name as he shut the door and left.

He realized— that Chris Redfield had been right. But not how Leon saw it.

Whoever Chris Redfield was, he was a genius. He’d taken one look at Leon Kennedy and known that Leon wasn’t useless and he wasn’t a mistake, but he was a _crutch._ One look into those blue eyes and it was all over, all of the fight gone, all loyalty to anything but the angel with a marble neck covered in bruises decimated. Chris Redfield had left Leon Kennedy behind because he’d had a fight to finish and he couldn’t do that with a man like Leon waiting for him at home. Just his touch could soothe any ache, seep away any hurt, mend any wound. Leon Kennedy could start wars with his eyes and earnest expressions, a modern Helen of Troy. 

Chris Redfield had left Leon Kennedy behind because Redfield had known that once he accepted Leon into his life, he would cease to exist on his own. And now, Jack Krauser had to do the same, lest he be crushed beneath the weight of an angel falling from the ceiling.


End file.
